


Awaken

by Magisey



Series: Sea of Stars [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character(s), Reincarnation, Star-crossed, ask to tag!, heavy callbacks to the first fic in this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 03:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11637873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magisey/pseuds/Magisey
Summary: Across the Sea of Stars, they find a homeStruggling to make dreams and reality connectAwakening to the possibilityThat some things might not be meant to be“Close your eyes. I will find you again,”“I will always find you.”





	Awaken

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 of this series is heavily referenced. To understand some parts of this story, you will need to read it.  
> I do not know Japanese and used google translate to work out a nickname for Genji. 10 to 1 it isn't good and does not work.
> 
> Beta read by Amanda - ty love!

They leave Hanamura in flames. What is left of the castle, the Shimada empire, is returning to the earth by dust. All the boys own now belongs in four suitcases, two each. Jesse has been granted an extra pair of sweats from the Blackwatch commander. They are too short, but fit fine. There’s promises of more clothes to come, and it’s nice to have one less thing to worry over.

Reyes, the Blackwatch commander, is gruff around the edges, but not impersonal. A strong man. Someone who has watched enough death to know how to shield his true self from it. Jesse respects that immediately. Having him near settles his paranoia regarding their safety.

Hanzo is at his side, pressed into him. As much as Jesse is prepared, he is unprepared too. This is new. Sensations roll over him, his steps as shaky as a newborn fawn. He asks again and again if he’s got something wrong with his ears, but the doctor stops responding after checking him the third time.

It is only the weight of Hanzo’s hand in his that keeps Jesse from feeling as if he is floating. As if he will sink into the dark place again. Genji sits beside the monk, and if Jesse were cognizant enough to understand, he’d see their hands were likewise connected.

Jesse sleeps on and off, listening to the intel. They are going to someplace called Gibraltar, to a Watchpoint. Someplace far, far away. By the time the plane lands, everyone is exhausted. Whatever adrenaline had been keeping them going has faded with the light of day. Jesse finds it hard to keep time straight, his body telling him he should be awake, though full dark is settling around the Watchpoint like a warm blanket.

The doctor offers them pills and he takes them, as well as Hanzo. Then, together, they are escorted to their new bunks.

 

\---

 

Hanzo and Jesse make it into the new room. It’s small, about the size of the closet in Hanamura. Genji had warned this, apparently having seen them before. There’s a lot about Genji that makes sense now, but he’s too tired to think on it.

Hanzo falls in a ruffled ‘oof’ onto the mattress, his head firmly sunk in a pillow. Fondness creeps over Jesse’s frame, burrowing warm in his gut. Without being asked, he removes the other man's shoes and socks before tackling his own. That is a prospect that takes much longer. Thankfully, they foresaw this and gave him the type with velcro. From what Genji says, that’s easier than the knots of laces. If this is easy, then the other type must be a nightmare. Clumsy fingers finally rip the velcro, the noise startlingly loud in the room.

It’s worth it, when his toes wiggle about, free from their prison.

If there’s one thing Jesse misses the most about Hanamura, and it ain’t much, it’s the bed. Hanzo’s bed was big and plush. This one is about half the size, harder than a rock but softer than the ground, and gave nothin’. Sighing, he sinks down beside Hanzo, feeling sleep tug at his body.

No.

No, that was just hands.

Jesse groans and peeks an eye open. Hanzo is leaning over him, sat up in bed. A scowl colors his face, brows drawn together sharply. It twists something in Jesse’s belly, forces him to sit up too quick. Dizziness washes over the room. “What is it? Who’s there?”

No one but them. Jesse looks back at Hanzo, and finds a look he can’t quite explain. Pained maybe. He speaks firmly, but his eyes waver, “Jesse, what are you doing here?”

“Sleepin’ darlin’.” And with that, Jesse sinks back down.

Exasperation colors Hanzo’s voice, “No Jesse. In this bed.”

“Thought I was clear the first time,” He yawns and rolls onto his side, looping an arm around Hanzo’s waist. If Hanzo stills, Jesse is still too sleep fatigued to notice, “Sleepin’.”

He isn’t too sleep fatigued to feel the arm shoved off, nor the feeling of hands shoving him roughly off the bed, “You have your own room.”

Hurt, hard and burning, snarls in Jesse’s chest. He’s too exhausted to handle this, too worn thin from the way the world has changed in two days. Two days wasn’t nothin’ compared to years as something totally different. Hanzo must be feelin’ it too, but… They always slept together. Ever since Hanz was 12. A decade of shared space and now the other man was gonna snub him? “You want me out.”

It should be a question, but it’s not. What room is there to question when Hanzo won’t meet his eye? When Hanzo’s hands gather the bedding in white knuckled fists. When Hanzo looks like he’s about to teeter into a rage.

There are many things he needs to know, but for the life of him he doesn’t know how to ask. Years of near perfect communication, wordless and deep, have been left in ruins. Hanzo might as well be across an ocean of stars.

Jesse is on the wrong side.

Alone, and terribly awake in a world without his beloved.

He leaves the room, ignorant to the pleading look that Hanzo gives his back. Ignorant to the tears and exhaustion his old friend sheds. Ignorant to the nightmares that keep him awake.

Hanzo is likewise ignorant of Jesse curling into a small bed, unaccustomed to being alone. Ignorant of how Jesse struggles to put together the ideals and dreams of a new life to reality. Ignorant to how Jesse’s heart aches for just a little bit of familiarity in a world he’s unfamiliar with.

 

\---

 

When his eyes open next, Jesse finds himself floating in the dark place. It’s soothing, a blip of something familiar. Instinctively, he knows this is a dream.

In the dark, just out of sight, Jesse can tell something or someone is watching him. There’s no malice, just a sensation of eyes. A voice whispers against his skin, his name a call so sweet and familiar it tickles the back of his brain.

_Jesse. Jesse. Jesse._

“Who’s there?” Instead of responding, it fades away. Only darkness once more.

_Stay strong. Won’t be long._

“Long for what? Who are ya?”

_Stars._

Stars? Jesse struggles to pinpoint where the words are coming from. He twists around to look, but it is difficult to really tell if he’s even moving. There’s nothing to weigh down his horizon. He can see himself, his hands and arms, but nothing beyond it.

Then, in the dark, there is a shimmer. Faint, like mist dissolving in the morning sun, there glows an image.

Stars. Beautiful and wrapped up. Two eyes, a crown, a body of celestial light.

It blinks from his mind. Fatigue smacks Jesse in the face. He struggles to keep his eyes open, wanting to catch more of whatever is here, in this familiar yet unfamiliar place.

_Please, awaken soon Jesse. I need you._

_He needs you._

He wakes up feeling just as tired, and expecting to find someone there. There is no one. Jesse is alone and the all consuming dread of the unknown seizes any motivation.

Alone.

 

\---

 

Jesse remains curled in bed, unwilling or unable to climb out of the covers. The senses he needs are dulled. The senses he could go without are sharp. His world is caught in a thunderous tug-of-war between confusion and pain. There’s an ache in his chest that is fierce. He remembers the bullet, once more, burning in his skin.

Sleep will not come, he remains awake. It would be too big a blessing to be granted, he supposes.

There’s a knock on his door and Jesse is on his feet before he can think. In his mind he sees Hanzo outside, looking just as worn thin and tired as Jesse, telling him it was a mistake. Telling him he’s sorry. Telling him he is loved and wanted. He swings upon the door and instead finds a young woman, dressed in brilliant pink and chewing and popping gum loudly.

“Woah, you look like shit dude.” She was there when they arrived at Gibraltar with the Blackwatch agents, Hanzo, Genji, Angela, the monk, and Commander Reyes. Hana Song. Gamer and Meka pilot. Their temp mechanic for the transports.

“Whaddya want?” Growls roll from his throat, tensing his shoulders. Hana only shoots him a grin.

“Moping sucks. Let’s go and do something fun.”

He’s set to say no, to turn her away, but she is all coaxing smiles and easy laughs. He doesn’t know what fun she will want. He imagines all the fun Hanzo and he have had - adventures and stories shared in the dark. Exploring the nooks and crannies of the city that was close if they needed to rush back to the castle, but far enough that it was new and refreshing. Chess -  but no. That isn’t Hanzo’s like, but Daiki’s. Hanzo is patient, but he doesn’t have the sort of lay-in-wait patience for Chess. Or perhaps he does, and Jesse can only see and feel for himself now.

Their loss of connection stabs him in the heart once more.

It turns out that every human has a different version of fun. Hana’s is playing video games. She gives him a controller for some retro racing game and starts to explain the rules before Jesse huffs and cuts her off, “I know how t’play, darlin’. Han might not’ve liked the arcade, but Genji sure did.”

“Tch,” Hana’s eyes narrow, shoulders stiff, “Genji cheats.”

Now of all the things that could be leveled against the younger Shimada, cheating sure isn’t one of them. Jesse laughs, just a little bubble, but his chest feels lighter already.

They play for a few hours, Jesse always getting his ass whopped. Slowly, his instincts sharpen, like a blade to the whetstone. Climbing the ranks becomes easier, until he does it.

He beats Hana at her own game.

“Woo!”

Hana starts to pout, arms crossed over her chest, but there’s no fire in her eyes, “No fair! You cheat too!”

Jesse starts to laugh, to really laugh. It boils from his toes to his shoulders, rolling him over. He’s laughing so hard, so hard that tears start to come to his eyes and then he’s…

He’s not laughing.

He shakes as if a giant has seized him in his fist and is rattling him around.

“What… What’s happenin’ to me?”

He needs to howl, he needs to keen in pain and let the world know, but his throat isn’t made for that anymore.

To her credit, Hana doesn’t seem taken back by the question. Instead, he feels a hand pressed on his shoulder. It isn’t shoving, like Hanzo’s from a few night’s ago, but warm. Comforting. That comparison splinters his heart more, and Jesse crumples into himself tighter. A star going supernova, “Gotta. Gotta go I can’t.”

“Jesse, wait -!”

But there’s no waiting. Springing from the couch, he rushes away. He takes his steps long and fast, dashing from the common area. It’s only been a day, a few hours really, but he finds his room without trying. Absentmindedly, he pokes the four digit code in, body still shaking as tears trace his face. As soon as it opens, he’s inside, locking his door before diving below the covers on the bed.

It’s a mixed relief when he learns he can still howl, just in a new voice, pain shaking to his core as he sobs. Lost in a sea of stars. Someone, someone(s) rather, knocks on his door, but Jesse refuses to answer or quiet down. He shakes and cries until his voice gives way.

 

\---

 

At a certain point he stops keeping count of hours and days. The carousel in his head of pain keeps going round and round - body, heart, mind, stomach; body, heart, mind, stomach… It twists Jesse up. There’s such a deep wariness and exhaustion in him, that he’s pretty sure he’s dying. Part of him wants to remain alive, because even if Hanzo wants nothing to do with him, Hanzo still needs him.

Right?

Wrong. The hours, stretched into days by his collapsing psyche, march onwards. Jesse resigns himself to another lonely death.

Knocks awaken him from a nap he was unaware he was taking. Jesse peeks at the door with a single eye, wishing he had his nose back. Then he could know if it was Hanzo outside or just someone else wanting to push and prod Jesse. He doesn’t want them. He wants his fated, his love, his sunshine.

“Jesse?” The voice is muffled, but distinctly female and high in pitch - Hana. She sounds worried, and it’s sort of touching, “Jesse please come out! I’ll let you keep winning. Jesse? I know you’re in there!”

But no one is patient like a wolf, and Hana leaves with a muttered promise to return later.

Shortly after, another set of knocks startles him. Sleep has not returned to claim him, but enough time passed that he was daydreaming. He can barely keep his hackles down, from growling at whoever it is outside.

Just when Jesse thinks they have given up, the knocking starts again. Three swift raps, like a woodpecker. Groaning, he sandwiches his head below the pillows, hoping they are thick enough to muffle the sound.

They are not. Nor are they thick enough to muffle the sound of a familiar voice.

“Jesse? I know you’re in there,” Of all the people… It was a Shimada, but not the one he wanted. Genji was not the person Jesse needs to see, and the desire to have the bed eat him is strong. “Open the door, you cannot keep moping.”

“I ain’t mopin’!” His voice is scratchy and strained. He throws a pillow at the door, but it bounces off and onto the floor with a gentleness that leaves him unsatisfied.

“Ah, so you can speak still? Good. Now, open the door.” Jesse snorts and rolls his eyes, not budging an inch. It was his decision, and he was deciding to fade away into nothingness until his fated claimed him again. Until he is accepted and not shunned.

There’s a sigh and Jesse has to gnash his teeth together, grinding them to keep from barking an angry yell, “Alright, I guess we do this the hard way. I’m sorry, Jesse, but you’ve left me no choice.”

He isn’t sure when he went to crouching on his bed on all fours, despite only needing two to walk now. He also isn’t sure why his whole body feels exhausted and weak in a way that is disconcerting, to say the least. He isn’t sure why he is dizzy and tired and ready to sleep. He isn’t sure about much.

But surely, he knows what walks into his room.

Through the door, the brilliant lime green of a small wolf emerges, her spectral form shaking off bits of who knows what. It sparkles like glitter and all Jesse is left feeling is awed. He wonders if he looked like that; Like something born of the milky way, blended from stardust.

_“Open the door for Genji.”_

Jesse doesn’t know her name, and never did ask or want to know. If Genji has sent his own guardian after him then it must be serious. Worry sinks a dead weight in his stomach.

He’s neglected Hanzo. Left him alone in a world that’s unfamiliar without even the comfort of a spirit guardian. Jesse admonishes himself for ever being hurt. For ever placing his own needs above Hanzo’s. He nearly trips as he clambers off the bed, blankets coming along to stretch across the floor. _Idiot, idiot, idiot! He needed you and you decided to be hurt. How could you do this to him? What if he is dead or worse?_

He flings back the door, wide eyed and staring at the calm looking Genji, who is all grins. It never falters.

“You look like shit, Jesse.”

“Hanzo, is he--” Jesse’s world tilts, dizziness slamming into him. Strong arms grab around him and help him stand straight. Genji might be shorter than even Hanzo, but he is strong. Fiercely strong, “-- alright? Is he hurt is he -”

“I would worry more about yourself than Hanzo, Jesse,” Genji’s voice is soft and uncharacteristically kind. He’s used to flippant attitudes and boasting, not this sweetness that makes him uncomfortable, “When was the last time you were out of your room?”

“Who cares about me!?” He snarls and shoves away the arms supporting him. Genji’s eyes widen and abruptly his guardian is between them, her hackles scrunching her nose.

Genji busies himself with calming her, calling her back. Agony pounds at the back of Jesse’s eyes, weakness invading every muscle of his body.

“Many people. For starters, I do.” Genji? Cares? Startled honesty paints Jesse’s face. Genji laughs, warm and round. It’s a sound so familiar and yet foreign. The right sound, from the wrong mouth, “Hanzo is fine, just fine.”

“Oh.” And the fire is gone, snuffed by the wind of those kind words. Genji must realize his mistake, by the way his brows pinch and he grabs onto Jesse’s forearms as he leans heavily into the doorframe.

“You haven’t taken care of yourself.” That’s an odd thing to say. Jesse tilts his head and regrets it for the dizziness that suckerpunches him, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Alone. Hurt.” He lists them off quickly.

Genji hums and gives him a once over, “What hurts?”

“My head. Always pounding. My heart feels like it’s gonna explode. I think I’m gonna die without him,” Maybe in a few months when he understands why, he’ll laugh with Genji at his overdramatics. For now, the laughter stings even worse.

Another Shimada telling him his feelings aren’t wanted, “Leave.”

“What?” Genji manages to catch the door before Jesse can slam it shut. It’s only then the younger Shimada gets it, fully gets what everyone has seemingly forgot - Jesse is honest to a fault, and has never had reason to hide his words.

“Jesse.” Pity does not fit those eyes. He doesn’t want it, can’t stand it, but it’s given freely. A gift Jesse cannot return, “What else?”

“I am weak. I can hardly move. My body aches. And…” He hesitates, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“Please, tell me my friend.”

“Do you think it’s possible for me t’... t’have a wolf too? A spirit guardian?” Genji tilts his head at the question and hums softly.

“No. I don’t believe so. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Jesse stares down at his body, at his core and gestures, “Sometimes it just starts to roar and growl in me and --”

As if on queue, the rumbling starts up, loud and unabashed.

“See! There it goes again?”

To his credit, Genji tries very hard to not laugh, but when Jesse keeps explaining in earnest all the reasons a beast must be inside him, the younger heir loses it.

 

\---

 

They wind up at the cafeteria. Jesse sitting on one side of a four man table, with Genji and Hana sitting on the other side.

Between them, a mountain of empty plates is rising. Jesse is eating anything and everything he can get his hands on. He’s scarfing it down at a speed that has numbed both of his companions into silence, only speaking to see if he wants more.

“Jeez, you don’t gotta wolf it down.” Hana mutters, and it’s all it takes to make Jesse splutter. Half chewed food sprays out across the table, making the small pilot jerk back. A look of disgust crosses her face.

“Gross! Jesse, that’s rude!”

Something snaps in him, his chewing halted. Genji is is working on wiping up the mess with some paper towels, muttering things below his breath in Japanese. Hana is looking like she would rather be anywhere but here.

It tickles something in the back of Jesse’s mind, a memory.

_Hanzo is fourteen, the first time at a formal dinner with his father, sitting proud, unaware that in a few years his father would be gone, and the burden of such events would take their toll. They are with a menagerie of clientele, including some Americans. They talk and eat loud, and Hanzo can barely conceal the withering glare he shoots them._

_“They were rude.” Hanzo explains that night, wrapped in the big wolf, “When you start a meal you must always follow a few rules. If you don’t follow them, you’re nothing but a brute.”_

_“What rules would those be, sug?”_

Jesse abruptly slaps his hands together, his palms stinging. The sharp sound draws the mumbled Japanese and disgusted looks to a halt, both companions staring at Jesse. How rude he has been, to have forgotten this step, “Itadakimasu.”

His accent is flawless, which is a bonus. Seeing as he was once Hanzo’s guardian, he isn’t sure if that is a given or a gift; just like how he isn’t sure being able to see Genji’s guardian is a given or a gift.

It takes two beats before both Genji and Hana are losing it, doubling over in raucous laughter. Jesse looks lost, eyeing them both with bright colored cheeks, “Now wait jus’ a gal darn second. What did I do wrong? Isn’t that what you’re ‘spose to do?”

“A-at at the,” Hana is trying to get the words out between bursts of laughter, “The START of a meal! Not like, twenty minutes in.”

His eyes drop to the formica table, eager to look at anything but the two. Genji’s laughter calms the first, “You know enough to say that, but not when? Didn’t you go to dinners with my brother.”

Jesse grumbles as he finds more interest in pushing mushed (Hana continues to tell him it’s mashed) potatoes around his plate with a fork, “Sure, but I had things t’do. I spent most of it smellin’ his food and makin’ sure it wasn’t poisoned.”

“Okay, but after that?” Jesse looks up and sees Genji’s smile is strained. Was he doing something wrong again? He shifts below the stare and thinks.

“Normally I was watching everything but Hanzo. Makin’ sure it was safe. I wouldn’t let nothin’ happen to him.”

Hana and Genji fall silent again, but there is a weight in their eyes, the way their gaze bounces around Jesse, searching for something, that makes him uneasy. Genji is the first one to speak, “Every meal?”

“Every meal I was ‘lowed, of course.” He hated the ones with The Elders and their damn eyes, always shooing Jesse away from the table. Genji hisses wordlessly while Hana stops making eye contact.

His appetite is gone. Hunger might still be there, but there’s a new pain in his stomach, “Why d’ya both look like I ate your --”

“Homework?” Hana tries, bringing her eyes back to him with a weak smile.

“-- Cousin. Cousin, actually.” He had before, a few times, eaten distant cousins. The clan was huge and a few cousins were always bound to fall by the wayside. Hanzo seemed sad when it’d happened and taught Jesse to not speak of it, but… That was then, when it could happen. Jesse can’t eat people anymore than Hana could.

“Is he… Is he for real?” Hana shoots Genji an almost frightened, wide eyed look, which suits him fine. That question lands in his gut like a low kick, stirring up the same feelings as when they played that damn racing game and he won. Jesse fucked up. Got too close, too comfortable. Forgot that he is definitely unwanted by them all -

Especially Hanzo.

He’s up before he can think, Genji’s strength the only thing that keeps the table from going with him. His chair skitters away like a rocket, making a racket like a dog whipped. He wants to go back to the dark place, to forget that this has happened, but he can’t.

He can’t and it feels like he’s drowning in blood and lead and burning sensations.

Jesse bolts, deaf to the cacophony of shouts of more than two voices. Deaf to the heated arguing between two brothers. Deaf to the silent whispers of commanders together, trying to figure out how to handle their newest recruits. Deaf to anything but his broken peels of sobs and wracking howls.

Back in the room, he closes his eyes and tries his best to not be awake.

 

\---

It’s eleven at night when the knocks come.

Somewhere in his fitful sleep, Jesse has dumped his tank top. Standing up, he shuffles to the door and opens it, bleary eyed and exhausted from sobbing.

Immediately he regrets it.

Hana stands outside, something tucked under one arm. The other is holding a plastic bag, “Hey.”

“It’s late,” There’s a gravel to his voice, low and thick like honey, “Go away.”

A hand catches the door before it can close all the way, and Jesse doesn’t have the energy or patience to do more than huff.

“Hear me out, okay?” Maybe, once she’s done, she’ll leave. Wary of what else this could be about, the man steps out of the door way and lets her inside. A bright grin crosses her face as she enters and closes the door behind her.

Guess that means it wouldn’t be a short visit.

“Look, I know you probably are super wary of me and stuff. Like, each time we’ve met you’ve ended up running away crying,” Jesse flinches, a snarl growing in his chest, “I don’t mean it bad! Life is sort of shit for you right now. Genji was telling me some stuff. I had no idea.”

What stuff is there to tell? About Hanzo? About the spirits? About where they had come from and the loneliness that must be eating away at what sanity Jesse has left? A headache begins to press against his eyes.

“The stuff I caused - I wanna make it up to you. Please?”

“Fine.” Anything. Maybe it will get her to stop.

Hana gives a whoop that causes him to flinch, the headache doubling. Immediately, she walks over and hops up onto his bed, not even minding the fact the covers are in a disarray. All he can do is gape at her, caught off guard by her lack of caring.

“C’mere! I wanna buy you a new wardrobe. Whenever I feel bad, making myself look better helps a lot. Why do you think I got these,” She points to the pink triangles on her cheeks. Jesse has to admit, he wasn’t aware they were something that came and went. Ambling over to the bed, he crawled ontop of it, keeping himself distanced. Hana says nothing, but scooches closer.

This is going to be difficult.

“New wardrobe’s gonna cost a pretty penny,” Pain lances in his throat and he has to clear it with a cough. It does nothing. At least when he closes his eyes things feel a smidge better.

There’s a rustle and then something cold is pressed into his hand. Jesse hazards opening one eye to peek at it. A can of something. “Whazzit?”

“I brought some drinks for us to try. Well, for you to try.”

Drinks? Jesse hums and peers at the can in his hand. The label reads ‘Dawn 808’, with a smiling old man at the top. Everything else is in Korean, unreadable to Jesse.

“It’s a hangover cure, and you’re sort of hung over. Emotionally speaking,” Hana is barely giving Jesse any attention, tapping rapidly on the thing that was under her arm. A hardlight tablet, he knows now. Humming to himself, he pulls the tab and takes a drink.

It’s… Odd. Medicinal? Jesse winces and manages to swallow before coughing, “Tastes bad.”

“It’s not that bad! Just finish it and then we can get onto the good stuff.”

Another drink, another wince, “Good stuff?”

Hana gins at him, eyes twinkling in the dim light of the room, “Banana milk!”

Jesse sighs and resigns himself to whatever shenanigans the young pilot has in store. It’s not like Jesse has plans, and if he’s honest with himself, he’s happy for the friendship. It’s just…

Her laughter and shock from the cafeteria still burns on, blistering hot inside his mind, stoking shame higher and higher. If he messes up again, will she want to see him again? Did it matter? Was this all from pity? Jesse sips once more and winces.

Dawn 808 was not something he would seek out again.

“Oh come on,” Hana is looking up from her tablet, scowling at him and his nursing of the drink, “Just chug the rest and I’ll give you the milk. It’s super good and will make up for it. Then we can get to making that new wardrobe of yours.”

With the look he gives the can, it was almost as if he thought it would reach out and bite him. Nodding once, he slammed down the rest of the drink. Immediately angry coils settled in his stomach, making him regret the decision. Still, he managed to keep it down.

“God, that’s some awful shit, Hana.” A small plastic bottle is shoved into his hand. It’s a creamy yellow color. The banana milk.

“All right, I have a test to figure out what sort of fashion you like. All you gotta do is tell me which of the guys you like on the screen.”

He eyes all their pictures, foot twitching on the bed, “Don’ like any of ‘em. Only Hanzo.”

“Are you kidding me -- No, you’re not. Right. I don’t mean like that.” Hana catches herself and Jesse is immensely grateful, though her words still ring in the air. It is cleared when she socks him in the shoulder, “I mean if you had to dress like any of them, what would you like?”

Jesse glances once more at the pictures, but none of them fit. “Sorry, it’s the same.”

“Seriously? Okay, well…” Hana nibbles her bottom lip as her fingers once more fly over the holo keyboard. She brings up google and types in ‘Alternate Fashion Styles’.

The first result is a bunch of images, one of which makes Jesse’s heart leap into his throat.

“That one!”

“The punk?”

Huffing, he jams his finger at the man in plaid, jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat, “That’ne!”

“You wanna look like a cowboy? Why?”

He isn’t about to tell her the vague memories of hot deserts and dry sand, “I mean,” Jesse looks down at his hands, “If it’s all right.”

Hana is quiet and when he looks back up, she’s typing on the holo keyboard once more, “Sure, but you gotta do something for me first!”

“Wazzat?”

“Take a drink of the damn milk, wolfboy.”

Much to his chagrin, both the company and milk are quite good.

 

\---

It’s late in the morning by the time they have a full shopping cart of goods. Hana is tickled pink, well pinker, quickly tapping in data at the checkout. Jesse shifts on the bed beside her. The banana milk has been finished, and he’s tried a few more things at her pestering. Barley tea might be his favorite. Reminds him of the drinks Hanzo would make for early mornings.

“Almost done.”

He catches the cost again and his stomach does a flip flop. It’s as much as one of Hanzo’s fined tailored suits, but that doesn’t make it better, “You sure ‘bout this, Hana? That’s an awful lot t’just drop on someone.”

“Yeah dude. I have money to spare anyway.”

Money to spare? Jesse is still nervous, but he’s grown considerably more comfortable around her as they discussed the merits of assless chaps and how useless they would be in Overwatch (there was definitely a pair added to the basket), “Whatcha mean?”

Hana glances over at him, cocking an eyebrow, “I mean what I mean, dude. I’ve got cash to spare,” Jesse must look confused, because she continues on, “I stream video games and earn money off of it. Donations and stuff. Overwatch covers my room, board, food, and parts of the MEKA. Seriously, this is like half of what I earn on a single stream. We’re good!”

Jesse isn’t sure how to respond, so he stays quiet. Part of him wonders what Hanzo will think with Jesse gussied up as a cowboy. Part of him wonders if Hanzo will even care. They war back and forth, distracting him until Hana chirps a merry, “Finished!”

“Dang, really?”

“Mmhmm, they’ll be here in a week.”

One week and he’ll be wearing new duds.

\---

 

More folks come to his door, knocking over and over again, for long periods of time. He’s chagrined to learn that the upper Overwatch management can override not just his door, but the safety lock too. So much for his own space. It was better in the dark place. That was his and his alone, shared only by the soul of the one he loves.

Angela comes with the commanders, checking on his ‘mental state’. Jesse doesn’t understand what that means, but he answers their questions honestly. He’s told he needs to eat more and rest. That means going to the cafeteria and that’s not something he can do. So he doesn’t. Not like they could come in and make him go.

Angela returns the day after she accompanied the commanders, and he learns that ignoring her is not an option. She’s about as tall as Genji, but with a fire that awes him. He cows to her glares and lectures of nutrition and taking care of himself. They spend most of their time together eating, and when Angela isn’t trying to lecture him, he finds her charming. A pleasant lady, smart as a whip, and talented.

 

\---

 

Hana eagerly takes him to play games, though Jesse doesn’t bother to try anymore. He’s worried about breaking down. He rarely speaks, so worked up and nervous about saying the wrong thing and scaring her or making her laugh at him. Still, she tries. She’s damn good at most games, except Chess. Something Jesse is oddly very good at. Doesn’t take long for him to look at the board as less of a game and more of a prey vs predator. He sets traps and moves Hana into them, over and over.

He refuses to play anymore the first time he’s put into checkmate. Hana calls him a sore loser, but it’s not that. He had let his King down, let him get taken and captured, somethin’ old Jesse would never let happen, but it did. He got blindsided by the brat and then well… Hanzo fell.

The King, that is. The _King_ fell. He tries to not tell her why, but eventually can’t keep up the pretense of a sore loser. Just mutters something like ‘don’t wanna fail him again’ and she agrees they won’t play it anymore. He sees the look she gives him from the corner of his eyes. It’s not pity and it’s not fear, but it’s something else. Something that makes him just as uncomfortable.

 

\---

 

Genji tries to be friendly, offering to go on runs or spar. Offer is too kind. It’s demanded, with angry Japanese and prodding. Genji wears him down with a patience he did not know the other possesses. It’s nice, though. Jesse is still incredibly strong, and finds himself enjoying the exercise. It’d be better if he could push himself alongside Hanzo, but he never sees his sunshine anymore. Only skies of gray overhead.

Except for the name on the leaderboards. Best accuracy. Best time. Best this and that. Geni sneers and jerks his thumb to the board, “Can you believe that? Jeesh.”  
“Yeah,” Jesse is breathless, marveled by the way Hanzo dominates in this strange, new life. It hurts, but he’s glad his King hasn’t fallen, “He’s amazin’.”

He notices the same look that Hana had on Genji’s face. Except Genji pushes Jesse into participating. They outfit him with a simple pistol, and it takes a few tries, but he gets good. Just like with the old videogame, Jesse starts rising in the ranks. Even when he passes Genji and the brat pouts, his good mood stays. Maybe it is in the way Genji was cheering before he remembers to be upset.

Until after a session he realizes he’s #1. He’s dethroned his King. Panic seizes his insides, twisting them into knots. He drops to his knees in front of Genji, grabbing his hands as he pleads and begs to remove it, to just delete the data. Genji, for all his faults, never mocks Jesse.

“Removing data is impossible,” Genji’s voice is tinged in sadness, but Jesse is too distraught to notice or care, “... but by this time tomorrow, it might be removed by someone else.”

Jesse returns with Genji the next day and it is gone as his friend predicted, but not just that - the board is filled with the same name in all 5 slots.

_Shimada, Hanzo._

Jesse is too starstruck to see the venomous glare Genji gives to the board. Too starstruck to see the look of pain he shoots Jesse. Too starstruck to notice how each is only a few mili-seconds better than the last record and Jesse’s previous.

He refuses to try again, says he can’t stand the idea of drawing Hanzo’s ire. Genji wilts, but accepts the words.

 

\---

 

The commanders are eager for him to run simulations, but it quickly becomes clear that Mccree - his call sign - is too green to be on the field. There are things Jesse understands like a fish to water, and yet other things that should seem obvious are massive hurdles he has to face. Learning how to do a two pronged attack on an enemy is easy: figuring out when the appropriate time to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ is a whole ‘nother. So is reading English. He can speak it just fine, but reading it is laborious and the words won’t sit still on the page. Yet, tell Jesse a five minute plan and he could rattle it back detail to detail: After five minutes, twenty, an hour, three hours… He even tries to do it later that night at dinner, but the commanders are so fed up with his enigma they just shoo him away.

 

\---

 

Lucio, a friend of Hana’s, offers to teach Jesse about dancing and music. Jesse knows some steps, mostly ballroom styles, but finds he likes a lot of what Lucio teaches. Line dancing is by far his favorite, even if Lucio keeps saying it isn’t much of a dance. Lucio also gives him an old, beat up acoustic guitar. Jesse’s fingers move easily on the thick neck, plucking out chords and simple melodies. He is apparently a natural. When they don’t dance, they jam out together, filling the watchpoint with glorious music. It’s something he has without the shadow of something overhead, something he isn’t aware he’s avoiding as much as celebrating.

It stops abruptly. Lucio seems skittish, giving weak excuses for why they can’t dance. Jesse wonders, as he watches his friend skate away, how he has messed up this friendship.

Unaware, still, of the shadow.

\---

 

His least favorite friend has to be the monk. Zenyatta comes by often, sometimes with Genji in tow, but typically by himself.

Just like now. Zen is hovering in the air when Jesse opens the door just a crack to peek out. The omnic raises a hand, “Greetings.”

“Fuck off.”

Jesse swings the door shut, but a hand comes in and stops it. A frustrated growl falls from his lips, “What the fuck is with people shovin’ their hand in my door? I don’t need your pity!”

“I would think not,” Zenyatta’s voice is light and airy, just a touch mocking, “With how much you are pitying yourself.”

“I ain’t got time for your pity nor yer damn riddles, Monk!” Jesse huffs and sulks off to his bed, hoping that Zenyatta will just give up and leave of his own accord. It’s a bad day, and being awake is too much for him. Sinking back into his too small mattress, he tugs the blankets over his shoulders and curls up.

But sleep won’t come. There’s something restless on his skin, making him writhe. He finally pushes himself to sit up and flinches, falling off the bed and taking his covers with him. Zenyatta is sitting beside him, floating in the air, nearly soundless.

“The hell? What are you doing?”

The monk seems undisturbed by the blustering, “Genji has been trying to speak to you, but he says you have refused him.”

Jesse grumbles and scratches at his stomach, “Just wants me to go and beat the record and I won’t.”

“No, it is not that, though I believe your irrational fear of drawing Hanzo’s ire over a simple score does play into it.”

Irrational. It’s a word that makes his skin crawl. Jesse shifts his weight and peers at the omnic. He doesn’t like being lower than him, his predator instincts rising up with his ire, “Whaddya mean?”

“I do not have a relationship with Genji’s brother, not the way either of you do, but from what I know of him I must wonder - Do you really believe that ousting a simple leaderboard score would be enough to make Hanzo mad at you?”

_No. Yes. Yes. No._ Conflicting thoughts flip his stomach into knots.

No, Their easy competitiveness during training in Hanzo’s youth.

Yes, The way Hanzo shoved him out of bed on their first night at the watchpoint.

Yes, The way Hanzo didn’t just take out the one score, but filled his name over the board: a warning for Jesse to stay out.

No, The simple joy either of them got at bettering each other, of pushing one another.

The speculation spirals and leaves Jesse uncomfortable and confused. The Monk always confuses him.

“While you are trying to find a way to connect once more with Hanzo now that your spiritual link is gone, Genji has spent his whole life without a bond with Hanzo. He already knows the ways. You would do good to speak with him,” Zenyatta pauses, tilting his head to the side, “If being with your sunshine is truly what you want.”

Feels just like the Monk - Saying words that make Jesse ache in a light tone. He wants to run away from them, into the dark place, but there’s no dark place. No hiding. Sighing, he rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes and grumbles, “I’ve dreamt about you.”

“Oh?” Zenyatta’s tittering laughter does not soothe Jesse’s nerves, surprising him not at all, “I hope I was still clothed.”

“What? Of course. I mean… You were, but not those clothes. Somethin’ close, but not the same. You were also…” He stops and tries to think of the Monk. It is faded around the edges, as if his mind doesn’t want to recall it. Everything else is crisp but those memories, “You weren’t an omnic.”

“Is that so? Then perhaps it was not me.”

Jesse shakes his head and snorts, “I’d know that irritatin’ cryptic nonsense anywhere. It _was_ you.” He stops and squints, trying to read an impassive (and always to be impassive) metal face, “You always been an omnic?” He asks slowly, suspicion coloring the edges of his words.

“As far as I know, yes.”

“You sure?”

Zenyatta tilts his head, in what seems like a smile to Jesse, “I believe I would be the one to know that best myself, would I not?”

Maybe. Jesse doesn’t want to give ground, instead attacks it from a different angle, “Yeah, but what if y’don’t remember? What if you’re just blind to it?”

Zenyatta hums softly, the orbs around his neck dancing in the air in a silent ballet, “It may be hard to accept, but not all souls who reincarnate remember who they once were. I am sure even Hanzo can not recall in detail what you do, Jesse.”

“What? No, I’m sure he…” Jesse stumbles, tongue too thick in his mouth. Does Hanzo not remember all their time together? All the almosts and the could’ve beens? He shudders and tries to not think too hard on it, because the more he thinks, the colder he becomes. As if just considering it was leaching away the will in his body to keep going.

A gentle hand on his shoulder, a touch of cool metal, draws him from his worries, “Genji is waiting on the rooftop. You would do well to go to him soon.”

 

\---

 

Genji is leaned over the railing, his forearms pressed into it, watching the sea. It’s a pretty scene, the way the bold colors of sunset dance on the waves. Those waves remind Jesse of the plans Hanzo and he’d make, about running to the beach or across the ocean. Genji was the facilitator of them in the end.

Failing Hanzo once more. It stings.

“Whaddya want, Tin?” He smiles around the words, trying to not sound as exasperated and strung out as he feels. Genji stiffens and looks over his shoulder. He beckons Jesse closer with a hand, and remains quiet until Jesse is there, right beside him.

“Do you know,” Genji is speaking softly, fingers worrying some of the metal rings on his fingers, “Why the staff would sometimes call me that?”

“Uh… Well.. Shortening of Suzume was Suzu, and that’s Tin,” Jesse states, his smart ass grin spread on his lips. It falls when Genji shakes his head.

“No. Because I was worthless, scrap ‘Tin’. My only value was in spare parts for the heir, should he need them.” It is said without that typical grin and teasing tone. It is said with such a seriousness that Jesse feels like he can’t breathe. It is said without looking at him, Genji’s gaze firmly on the sunset. The opposite way from home.

Tanabata trees come to mind, covered in wishes upon wishes. It used to make Jesse unreasonably jealous of Genji, the way the staff always wished for him and not Hanzo. _‘Let Tin be healthy’ ‘Keep Tin safe’ ‘May Tin stay strong’._

All their good wishes take on a sinister meaning.

Genji’s flippant behavior takes on a new meaning too.

Jesse wracks his mind, scrubs over countless memories for a time when Hanzo has said it. He feels great relief when he cannot recall a single instance. Hanzo has always called Genji by his name or by Sparrow, “I had… I had no idea, Genj. I wouldn’t’ve said it if’n I did, my hand t’god.”

Genji’s laugh is short, but it helps disperse some of the panic rising in Jesse, “I know that, Jesse. You did not know. I am unsure if Hanzo knew, either.”

“Pretty sure he didn’... He loved ya. Loves ya.” Genji grows still at that and sighs, his fingers threaded in his green hair. It is still vibrant grassy green, despite the luxury that dye must cost out here in this remote locale.

“There are things about our life that you don’t know, Jess. Things you couldn’t know. You were preoccupied with a million different tasks, your eyes always on Hanzo. I think there’s a lot of our world that just… didn’t come through.”

Jesse would like to argue that, but not moments before he had used a nickname for Genji that likened him to a body bag of backup parts.

“Hanzo has always been hard to be around, because he isn’t eager to tell you how he’s really feeling.” There’s no way to stop the snort that comes out, but Genji doesn’t seem amused. His brow furrows as he continues, “It doesn’t feel like that to you, given what you were to him, but it’s the truth. The relationship, that unspoken understanding that came between you constantly, is a luxury most of us will never have.”

They are quiet, listening to the waves on the rocks, the steady tide dashing itself over and over again. It set a longing in his heart.

“You were excited to see his name up on the scoreboard. Do you remember what your time was?”

Jesse grunts a no and waits for Genji to continue.

“You beat the course with perfect marks at 59 seconds and 89 milliseconds. Hanzo’s 5th place record was 59 seconds 87 milliseconds.”

He knows it’s probably meant to make him feel something other than pride, but it doesn’t.  Jesse whistles and shakes his head, a doofy grin across his face, “Damn… His worst score was already better than my best. Must’ve been a breeze for hi--”  
“He spent all day doing it.” Silence stills between them, drawing Jesse’s frown, “It took him five hours to eclipse the score you made. It took all day to set the rest, including the courses top, score: 59 seconds and 60 milliseconds.”

It doesn’t make Jesse any less awed, not at the dedication and the fact Hanzo pushed himself so hard, but there’s something that aches inside hearing that. He rubs at his chest, wishing he could touch his heart. They said it was a muscle, it had to get aches and pains that a masseuse could smooth out.

“He didn’t want me… there.” Just like the night in the bedroom. Shoved out.

Genji doesn’t deny it, but he doesn’t confirm it either, “Lucio was teaching you to dance and play guitar, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, but then he just got cold feet and--” No. Jesse stiffens, feeling his heart twist painfully.

Genji hums softly, gazing out at the sea and not at Jesse, “Hanzo pressured him. Told him to back off.”

“Why?” It’s so weak sounding and pathetic, so limp and lifeless. Genji looks over at him, pain in his face.

“I don’t know. I know my brother. I love my brother. But…” Genji takes a steadying breath, and the heat Jesse finds in his eyes is humbling, “I hate what he is doing to you. I hate that he goes off and does his own things without telling anyone, trying to shoulder the world without an ounce of help.”

But Jesse has always been there, always just a call away. He has always witnessed the Hanzo others could not believe lurks below the surface. The Hanzo that is eager to please and prove himself. The Hanzo that would fall for him, crumble at his soft calls, and give Jesse all the pain in his heart.

That wasn’t by his own volition, though. Jesse was a part of Hanzo. Of course Hanzo would share with himself what he would not with others.

He isn’t special, no more than Hanzo’s heart is special. Just another organ.

Jesse isn’t sure when he falls to his knees and when he starts to cry. He only knows when he finally comes out of the hollowed, panic stricken space in his heart that the stars are out and it’s no longer just Jesse and Genji. Zenyatta, Hana, and Lucio are also there.

“Hey, look who finally decided to stop flipping out,” Hana chides. Genji gives her a sour look, but Jesse just laughs. His voice is rough. He must’ve been screaming, howling, again. It’s embarrassing that he has lost himself so easily.

“It’s okay, man. You’ve been having a shit time. Let’s get you back to your room.” Lucio is the one who suggests it, offers an arm around Jesse’s back as he boosts them away. He swears, as they leave, he hears fiercely whispered Japanese.

_“--See what you have --”_

_“Not the same, he can’t --”_

_“ -- can’t remember? Does it really --”_

 

Jesse stays awake for hours, staring at the ceiling. Sleep comes only when he is too exhausted to think, too broken to handle the revelations any longer.

He is nothing special.

 

\---

 

Jesse wakes up in the dark place.

_Nothing special._ Not even this space is special. He clutches at his chest, the ache there gargantuan. A burden that even Atlas could not shoulder. Jesse has given everything for someone. Someone he adores, even now as broken and torn apart as he is.

He pinches his eyes closed, tears crawling down his cheeks.

_Jesse._

It’s the voice again. It calls from somewhere far, far away. Soft, like the wind across his skin. Tickling something in the back of his brain.

He opens his eyes, wondering if the voice can help. If whatever it is here, in this place, can make it all better. Right now, he needs it.

His heart leaps in his throat as a star appears. More should come. As expected, they dot the  world in front of him.

But they don’t stop at a tiara or body. No. They flash on and on and on and on. Smeared across the dark place until calling it the dark place is wrong.

It is flooded, filled, with a million stars. Bright and dull and colorful.

Wonder eclipses his grief. Nebulous space clouds float around, translucent and colored in fantastic ways.

“Woah.”

_Jesse._

The voice is stronger. Someone or something is calling, and he turns, searching for the voice again.

Two stars, brighter than the rest, pulse against the backdrop of light. It takes a moment, but he realizes that they are eyes. Blinking eyes.

A body takes shape, a wispy gown of space dust covering their limbs in loose folds. Long strands of shimmering black hair chase the ground, making inky pools around their bare feet. Placed upon their head is a tiara of stars.

“Jesse.” Their voice is light, feminine. A smile spreads across their face, “Can you see me?”

“Y-yeah, I can but… Jus’ who _are_ you?”

Her, he realizes it is a her, laughter is sweet. Like ringing bells and a brush of scented wind in early spring. “A friend. I know you’re sad, and I want to make it better. I want to help you.”

“No real way to make it better.” Whatever good mood this surprising shift in the dark place has brought to him is immediately dashed, “I’m nothin’ special, ma’am. Never was.”

“You are so special. You are more than you think you are, Jesse.”

He breaks eye contact, staring at the ground of endless stars and clouds. Softly, he grouses, “Nah, I… I thought I was to him, but now that I ain’t his guardian I’m…”

A cool, soft hand grasps his chin and lifts it. She stands closer, eyes burning brightly, almost too bright to bare. He fights the urge to look away, “You are still a part of him. You are always a part of him. He is scared and he needs you now more than ever. It is so much to ask, but Jesse, you must be brave. You must be strong.”

Even if he’s partially convinced this is a dream. Even if he’s pretty sure that this is all wishful thinking. Even if he’s mostly refuted his importance.

He believes.

Oh how he believes her words, a balm his soul has needed since the first night he was shoved from the bedroom. Since the first night apart, where things took a turn for the worst.

Jesse was needed. More than that.

He remembers his promise.

He remembers his promises.

To protect him no matter what.

He can’t see it, but the stars draw slowly to him, flecking across his skin. Draped in their beauty, as if he were a being from the milky way, made up of blended stardust. She can see it, but her eyes are hers alone.

To Jesse, he sees a possibility he had thought long gone. A chance to make reality and dream connect.

“What do I need to do?”

She leans in and kisses his forehead. Jesse falls, falls, falls.

She twinkles out as his eyes slide closed. No answer comes, no words spoken.

And yet, he knows the answer already. It’s been inside him.

No more running. No more second guessing.

 

He promises once more. To protect him no matter what.

When he awakens, it is morning. For the first time since coming to Watchpoint Gibraltar, Jesse is rested and ready to face the day.

 

\---

 

Jesse can tell by their wide, round eyes and aborted conversation that his little group of friends were not expecting him at the cafeteria the next morning. Surprising them almost feels good. Feels even better when Hana unceremoniously shoves Lucio from his chair, the dancer sitting on the floor and rubbing his aching backside.

“Ow! Hana, what the heck?”

“Jesse! Here, sit here. Come here, come on!”

The table is one of the smaller sort, with enough space for four people. Hana, Lucio (gone but not forgotten), Zenyatta, and Genji are at the table. Lucio picks himself off the ground, scowling at Hana.

“C’mon now, darlin’,” The pet name seems to startle Hana all for half a second before she breaks into a shit eating grin. He really hopes he hasn’t stepped in it now, “That ain’t fair. He was sittin’ there first. I’ll go sit somewhere different.”

“Oh, heck no!” She grabs onto his arm with a ferocity that makes him bark out a laugh, stunned by her small and mighty strength, “You’re sitting with us, wolfboy. Now sit your keister down!”

“Yeah man,” Of all the folks, it is Lucio he had expected the least to chime up in agreement, “Sit! I can get another chair. I would have given you mine in the first place, if I hadn’t gotten shoved out first.”

There’s a devious smirk that crawls across Hana’s face, a smirk Jesse has seen come out time and time again when the princess is about to unleash a hidden combo, “Boop!”

Well, considering how they are all giggling, it must be an inside joke. Jesse chuckles softly, feeling his nerves slowly cool and calm down.

Genji looks delighted as well, eyes practically shining with joy, “I thought we were going to have to send another rescue party into the caves of despair.” Jesse snorts at the name. It isn’t unfitting, “What brought you out here?”

“Well I… I’m not sure.” Did he need a reason? Maybe their kindness had been out of pity and desire to no longer hear him sobbing at night? Jesse shifts his weight from foot to foot, suddenly uncomfortable. Before he can fret too much, Zenyatta speaks for them all.

“Whatever it is, we are happy you are here. Please, continue. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” The others nod in agreement, though Genji is quick to rib the omnic.

“But master, you don’t eat!”

Now that’s a joke Jesse can understand.

He goes to get food, and is surprised by the choices. Everything feels like home, and by home he means the one in Hanamura, not the one in the hot desert memories. Rice and fish and eggs and seaweed and soup and - so many little dishes and sides. His stomach growls, knowing just by looking which is good and which is better. Which has excellent ingredients and which does not. He puts together a simple meal of rice porridge, with fixings, and some fish. Sitting down, he gives Genji a sly wink and claps his hands together (much gentler this time) before stating, “Itadakimasu.”

“Hey hey, you remembered it right!” Genji is smiling, which gives Jesse a pleasant buzz. He takes a bite and hums. It is good, the ingredients mixing well together.

“I am surprised. I thought you would not like porridge,” Zenyatta’s statement is friendly enough, but the look Genji is giving Zenyatta is anything but friendly.

“Why’d ya think that?” He takes another bite of fish, big and generous, and savors the texture of soup and rice and fish as it mixes together.

“Because, Hanzo hates porridge,” Oh. He’s right. Jesse looks down at the bowl and realizes he is taking great joy from the meal. It’s definitely not passive aggressive. There’s no hidden meaning. Jesse just knew, as he knew the sun would rise every day, that he would _demolish_ that bowl of porridge.

“Huh. Strange,” Jesse slows, savoring the last few bits of his breakfast. It left him feeling full and warm and happy. Something he hasn’t felt in the month they’ve been at this new place. He’s actually content being awake. It’s an improvement.

“So like, you ate it to give him a big middle finger?” Hana posits, a wide grin on her face. Jesse just shakes his head, careful to put the utensils properly on the bowl. He didn’t want to insult the chef.

“Why’d you think that? Be a lil’ weird to try and tell a fella something like that just ‘cause you wanted t’eat breakfast.”

Genji is the one who responds, his tone careful, like he’s trying to give bad news, “Yes, but it was Hanzo on kitchen duty. You… Did not realize?”

“... There’s kitchen duty?” He hadn’t noticed the tension around them, but it’s obvious now when they all deflate, pleasant laughter rolling around their table.

Breakfast is well done and over by the time Jesse finally leaves the cafeteria and ambles back to his room. More than once he has had to show Genji how to get back to his room, but Jesse is blessed with good directional memory. He hums a nothing song and ambles up to his room. A familiar metal tray with a shiny domed lid sits outside his door, making him stop short. Frowning, he picks it up and takes it inside.

The lid comes off as soon as his door shut. Rice porridge: dark green seaweed, reddish-orange fish eggs, grey skinned pink flesh slices of grilled fish, and a clear salty spicy broth. Quality that is far above and beyond what was served in the kitchen.

It’s luke warm now, but not spoiled. Jesse covers it again and sets the tray on his desk, mulling over everything from the morning. He is reluctant to point out Hanzo even if that seems the most likely culprit, but also reluctant to say someone else did it. There's quality and care here that feels too special to be manufactured by the good will of another, and none of his friends left the table long enough to do something like this.

Jesse returns to the kitchen prior to lunch to see Angela pulling out ingredients from the industrial fridge. Her smile is easy. Getting time to see her is hard, as she’s always busy, but it is always enjoyable.

“Say, I heard there was a… a kitchen duty? Think I could be put on breakfast?”

It's easy to sign up. He’s put at the start of the next month. There’s enough time for him to prepare. Jesse settles in his room, eating the exquisite breakfast, and plots.

 

\---

A few hours later, Jesse is in the medbay. Angela looks up from her computer, a worried frown pinching together her eyebrows.

“Jesse! I saw you a few hours ago,” She stands and walks over to him quickly, checking him for injuries, “Are you hurt?”

“Ah, nah Ang. Actually, I was hopin’ you might be able t’do something for me.” Jesse takes off his hat and holds it to the front of his chest, worrying the brim with his fingers.

Angela purses her lips and hums, “It depends on what the favor is, Jesse. I am very busy.”

“I know, I know. I just was wonderin’ if you might have some uh… information on recallin’ memories.”

One perfectly plucked eyebrow raises, “Recalling memories? Like Amnesia?”

Jesse ponders that, mulling the word around. Amnesia didn’t sound quite right, but he isn’t about to tell her it’s from a past life. Weird enough she saw him transform from a wolf. “Maybe, yeah. Or uh just in general?”

The doctor nods and walks back to her desk, scooting her chair in tight. Her fingers fly over the holo-keys quickly, “Take a seat, Jesse. This will take a few minutes.”

Jesse does as instructed and waits for her. He expects to spend a long time, but suddenly she is up and moving towards him, in her hands a hard-light tablet.

“Here, this is full of all journals I could find on memory problems, including amnesia.” She spends a few minutes showing him how to work it before walking away.

Bless her heart, Jesse knows she means well, but all the articles are in English. He struggles silently for a while, enjoying the calm and clean atmosphere of the medbay, to read them. After a good twenty minutes, he folds and is about to address her when a burst of people enter the medbay.

A mission has gone sideways, and Mei needs to be patched up. Jesse waits, ever patient, for things to calm again. It takes time, but he is in no rush.

She passes his chair, muttering things to herself, and stops short. “Jesse? What are you still doing here?”

“Well, uh… I can’t really read this. I was wonderin’ if you had anything in Japanese?” She looks surprised and then laughs, nodding. Instead of taking the tablet from him, she presses a little icon in one corner. A pop out appears, with many words written on it, some not in roman font.

He spies ‘日本語’ on the list. Angela pushes it and he is left to marvel as the document and interface switch into the language.

“Well shoot! Thanks, Ang. This is perfect.” The doctor nods, scurrying away to deal with her duties. Jesse spends his evening pouring over the documents, but other than getting a handful of suggestions and things to look into, nothing is concrete.

He lays awake for some hours, toying with the information he has learned. Zenyatta’s words rumble in his head: _It may be hard to accept, but not all souls who reincarnate remember who they once were._

Sleep comes once the next step is decided.

\---

Zenyatta is overjoyed to have Jesse with him during meditation. Or Jesse thinks he is. There isn’t much change in the monk’s voice, but he is becoming adept at reading the omnic’s body language. Head tilts are definitely smiles.

“Meditation is not easy, but it should help you recall some memories better.”

He does not get benefits right away, after all Jesse has a hard time just sitting still for the full hour every morning at dawn. It starts to help a few sessions in, laced in with extra exercise. Memories bubble from down below, scratching at his brain.

Even when it does not appear to be the silver bullet Jesse had wanted, he still goes.

 

\---

He practices and watches cooking videos, looking for everything he can about breakfast. From the big to the small. From different cultures to different time periods.

He dreams of the past, but nothing even touches breakfast. A lot of it runs carnal - the way Hanzo has laid below him, moaning broken and shattered through thick lips. The taste and feel of him on his tongue. The feel of sinking into Hanzo, of lips against soft skin.

It leaves him starving and with a heat in his belly that won't abate. No food nor quick desperate grinding against his mattress fill his needs.

He also remembers their secret jokes, their games and teases, the stolen kisses, the way they would fight but make up, usually within a few days.

As the month draws to a close, no dreams of breakfast come. But the little surprise breakfasts do, things Jesse finds he loves and did not expect. He awakes each morning to a silver tray and a silver lid outside his door. On the day things are rough, it is the only thing that drags him from bed.

 

\---

 

Jesse stands in the kitchen, dazed from lack of sleep. All night had been spent trying to enter a trance state, to drag up some sort of memory. Nothing comes. Not even the blissful, dirty dreams of Hanzo and himself, in another time in another name and body. Nothing but a blank canvas of black that mocks him. It doesn’t let him sleep and it offers no solitude. Awake and alone.

It is in that odd state that he cooks, whipping together a batter. He issues small commands when Angela shows up. It’s his first time on kitchen duty, so she volunteered to help. And maybe to make sure he didn’t poison anyone.

He’s halfway through his batter, a stack of pancakes to his right, when it hits him that he’s been cooking. They tower on two plates, golden brown and fluffy. Jesse frowns at them, trying to recall when they came into being, only to be broken from his thoughts by Angela’s pleased hum.

“These are divine! How ever did you make them?” Jesse rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. He can’t say. None of the recipes he remembers involved pancakes. None of them he studied were either.

There’s bacon and eggs to go along with them, as well as hot honey butter, apple jam, whip cream, and powdered sugar. Fresh fruit is washed, sliced and cut, everything going into their own bowls.

Jesse is aware of two things: 1) his breakfast is a smashing success, the joyful cheers and happy banter warm him, fill him with something he wasn’t aware he was missing. 2) Hanzo never shows up.

There’s a plate off to the side, the pancakes carefully filled with fresh fruit, whip cream, and a sprinkle of the powdered sugar. He stares at the plate and knows that his sunshine won’t come to breakfast. Likely because… Because it is Jesse who is cooking.

It stings, negative thoughts buoying to the top, but he fights. As much as he wants to sleep, he is awake and there are things to be done.

Taking a breath, he puts the plate on a silver tray and covers it with a silver domed lid. “Well Ang, I gotta go and deliver someone a lil lovin’. Thanks for all ya did.” He gives Angela’s cheek a chaste european style kiss.

To his surprise, she laughs and pushes him away, “Go, go. I hope he accepts it.” They all know where his heart lies, not a single person having forgotten Jesse’s handful of breakdowns.

To his credit, he makes it to the door before the panic rises. This could be a mistake, a terrible mistake. Instead of pulling Hanzo in, he might push him back. Jesse has never been so unsure of something in his entire life. Swallowing stiffly, he knocks shave-and-a-haircut on the other man’s door.

When had he last seen Hanzo? Jesse doesn’t remember. He also doesn’t remember the undercut, or the bridge piercing, or the dark bags below his sunshine’s eyes. It stirs something in his heart, wanting nothing but to pull him into a hold and soothe the hurt from those tired, dead eyes.

“Yes?”

Jesse shifts from foot to foot, swallowing down his nerves, “Saw y’weren’t at breakfast.”

“It is good to see your eyes are working.” There’s something cruel about the way Hanzo’s mouth curls, something that jabs at Jesse. _Stay focused, Jess._

“I brought you breakfast.” He offers the tray out to Hanzo. He’s relieved when it is taken from his hold. Hanzo balances it on one hand and removes the lid.

Jesse catches a sparkle of _something_ in Hanzo’s eyes before it is gone, shuttered before the dead look that makes him ache. “I had no idea you liked pancakes.” So, Hanzo did know he was cooking.

Shrugging, he scratches at his scruffy beard, “Nah, I… don’t.”

Hanzo stops short, looking back up at Jesse with narrow eyed suspicion, “Then why did you make pancakes?”

“I know y’like sweets and I wanted t’do somethin’ nice for you, for…”

“‘Sup, Daddy-o?” Hana’s hand claps his shoulder, making Jesse jerk. She’s not alone. Lucio, Zenyatta, and Genji are all there, “Is he being a stinker again?”

“What’re y’all doin’ here?” He’s frustrated, cheeks growing hot. This isn’t how he wanted to approach Hanzo. He wanted to give a nice peace offering, not show up with the troops in tow.

“They have been here since the beginning, but I suppose your senses have dulled to this state, mm?” Again, that cruel smile is there, digging into his heart.

Hana’s scowl comes across clear in her voice, “Dude, he did something nice for you. Can you not be an ass?”

“He has done no such thing,” Hanzo sighs, the smile deflating. The lid comes back over the meal, guarding it from the air. Jesse feels strung tight, like an archery bow about to snap, “He is trying to repay me for something I have not done.”

Genji is there now, fury shaking his body, “What do you mean by that?”

Hanzo scoffs and leans against his door jam, the tray held in one hand, “He thinks I am the one who has been leaving the meals at his door. I have to see them all the time when I pass by.”

_No._ It’s not a denial of the truth, but a feeling. Something isn’t right with those words, like when Hanzo said Jesse didn’t make his own decisions. Like when someone would lie and Jesse would know that there was more to the story. Jesse’s eyes narrow, peering at Hanzo. That cruel smile returns triumphantly.

“Did you really think I could care about you? I’m free of you. It’s wonderful.”

_Liar._ Still the words feel hot and heavy in him, stabbing his sensitive heart. It hits the place that had been hoping, secretly, for this to be a bridge.

“That’s super fucked up, man.” Lucio is admonishing him, and Jesse still has the knee jerk reaction to protect Hanzo. They just don’t see it. They can’t see it.

See what?

Hanzo shoves the tray at Hana, who grabs it seconds before it can clatter to the ground, Jesse’s handiwork almost destroyed in the last act of salt in the wound.

He turns, his sunshine turns, and looks over his shoulder at Jesse, a barely concealed sneer on his lips, “Didn’t you get my message before? I don’t need you. I don’t want you.”

_Liar._

“I have never wanted you, never needed you. You were a burden. The sooner you leave me the better.”

_He’s lying_.

Hanzo is stepping back into his room. Genji is touching his shoulder, trying to say something comforting. Trying to cool what they all must assume is Jesse about ready to snap, to breakdown again.

Maybe he would, if he weren’t so tired. Tired not just from lack of sleep, but waiting. A hunter only waits so long. A wolf only so patient. He has played the long game for Hanzo, taken his gifts and tried to return them when it felt right, in a way that would show his interest and gratitude.

It hurts that it is rebuked. There’s no direct correlation between Hanzo and the secret breakfasts, but Jesse knows it’s him. His instinct says it as loudly as it can, screaming in his ears. Despite what Hanzo says, his instincts and senses are still strong. He heeds them now more than ever.

What finite hold that is left in Jesse snaps when Hanzo gives one last look over his shoulder. A glimpse of frightened twelve year old eyes catch his.

_I will take care of you. You can be free. You are a good soul_ , they say.

He surges, hand shoved out to catch the slamming door. He must’ve moved fast, faster than normal, because everyone is startled, including Hanzo. After months of folks shoving their hands in his door, Jesse returns the favor.

“Take it to the kitchen, Hana.” His voice is deep, deeper than normal, a demand. Hanzo turns to look at him, searching for something as Jesse pushes into his space uninvited. The door closes behind them, and suddenly Jesse is alone with his fated for the first time in over a month.

But there is no room for second guesses in the rage boiling in him, in the storm that threatens to break. He snarls, toothy and grim, at the man before him. Hanzo takes a step back, gives him the room to move in, and it strokes some of Jesse’s ego. That little primal part that still demands he be a predator before his prey.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hanzo tries to stare down his nose at Jesse, to appear haughty and unaffected.

“Enough. Enough of you runnin’ around and actin’ like ya don’t care.”

Hanzo scoffs, “I do not.”

“Liar!” Thunder pulses in his veins, electricity dancing at his fingertips. Jesse takes a step forward, Hanzo takes a step back. The dance advances one position.

“I do not care about you, or your petty feelings. I do not care about what you have to say, or why you are here.”

“False.” Jesse’s voice is a rumble, a judge and jury. Another step. Their waltz leading closer to the far wall.

“What,” Hanzo says, so low and deadly, his eyes smoldering with an unknown emotion, “Makes you think I would care?”

Suddenly, it’s Hanzo’s turn. Each statement, Jesse shuffles a step back, pushed by Hanzo going forward.

“Who do you think you are barging in here?”

“Why would I give you meals?”

“What makes you think you’re so important to me, Jesse?”

Memories snap between them, the pages of still frames clotting Jesse’s view of Hanzo, of his furious eyes and blotchy red cheeks and flaring nostrils.

_They sit on the floor, enjoying breakfast. Hanzo, not Hanzo but still Hanzo, is scowling at a bowl in front of himself. Jesse can’t help but laugh, covering his mouth as he does. It is quickly shoved at him, a twinkle of mischief in Hanzo-not-Hanzo’s eyes._

“You made me eat your porridge. The one your Ma made for you. You didn’t like it, but I told you it was the best damn thing I ever ate. You fed it to me every time you wanted to apologize for a fight, but couldn’t find the words.”

Bowl after bowl appears, different ingredients but same cuts of grilled fish and salty spicy broth.

“You make fun of my love of bacon, but you’re the first to give me your extra strips. You make sure it’s balanced with fruit. You take extra care to pat away the grease.”

Thick slices sizzle in his mind. He’s not sure if the sound is an echo of a memory, or the tension snapping and snarling between them, fitting to burst.

“Pancakes. I hate pancakes. You don’t. You love ‘em. Just like I made today, like I make you when you ask me nicely. Filled with fruit and sweetened.”

_Somehow, predictable, whip cream ends on Hanzo-not-Hanzo’s nose. It’s cute. It’s endearing. He laughs and spears a piece of banana and pancake, offering it to Jesse. “How can you hate them? You make them so good?”_

Names roll off his tongue, thick and underused, “Daiki Shimada, Ichirou Shimada, Hideki Shimda, Nobuyuki Shimada. Names without surnames, before Shimada is a thing, before that fucking clan has its hooks in ya and ya can’t escape.”

He isn’t sure when, but they are against the far wall again, Hanzo wide eyed and stunned at the sudden anger and memories and god knows what else that has taken over Jesse, “I remember.”

He intends to say ‘so much, and much more I will in time’, but Hanzo snaps this time. Something feral and furious glows in his eyes. A flash of blue. He grabs Jesse by the shirt, whirling around and shoving him into the wall. Jesse is breathless and stunned not just from impact, but the strength.

And that vicious sneer, cutting into him.

“And just what do _you_ remember?”

Before Jesse can remember, an announcement clears the air. They pant softly, anger and something else in their eyes.

“We have an emergency mission. Will the following members please come to Hangar 18: Hanzo Shimada, Genji Shimada, Hana Song, Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Tekhartha Zenyatta, and Aleksandra Zaryanova. Again, will the following -”

It repeats over. Jesse is released onto his feet unceremoniously. Hanzo turns his back and starts to grab things, shoving them into a messenger bag lying on his desk, "When I get back, we will be talking about this.”

Hanzo throws open the door and leaves first, Jesse following. His sunshine sends another hostile glare to the right, where Genji is leaned up against the wall, arms folded across his chest casually.

“You, medler, need to stop.” It’s the only thing Hanzo spits in his brother’s direction before he is storming away. Genji huffs, but waits until Hanzo is around the corner and out of sight before addressing Jesse.

“Can you believe that guy? I’m not a meddler!” Genji, in a complete lack of self-awareness, shoves a piece of paper in Jesse’s hand.

It has a number code on it.

“For Hanzo’s door. Sleep there while we’re gone. It’ll help with the memories.” Genji is walking away when he stops and turns to stare at Jesse with big eyes.

“Maybe I meddle a little, but it’s not bad like Hanzo thinks! It’s only good.”

Maybe some self-awareness.

Genji salutes him and is gone for real this time, leaving Jesse with too many questions and not enough answers.

The night settles, and with all his friends gone, Jesse settles into the bed he tried to share with Hanzo on their first night. It is still uncomfortable, but it smells like Hanzo. A scent he is unfamiliar he misses until it is there, smothering him.

Sleep comes easy. After the stressful day, he’s glad to no longer be awake.

 

\---

 

Daiki Shimada places too big of bets on games he is going to lose. Lose horribly, Jesse might add, as he chews around his cigar and moves a pawn forward and claims the other rook. Daiki scowls, eyes stormy and dark, looking over the board. Their pieces are dwindling, but it’s the little victories like a pawn taking down a big ol’ castle that makes Jesse feel good.

First game this happened, Jesse is certain he is being pool sharked. At chess. First time for everything, after all. He decides to ease the bruised pride by spending the winnings on booze. Hell, it’s what Jesse would have done regardless, but now he has a drinking partner and someone who will play game after game.

It’s night three of getting together. They sleep above the bar in a little hotel, different rooms, but seemingly falling into a routine that feels good. Jesse takes Daiki to lunch and dinner on winnings he’s making off the bad gambler. Never seems to twinge when the hard earned bills pass his fingers.

Only twinges when Daiki sizes up the board and declares an additional bet, or an additional point of intrigue. He enjoys doing it. If Jesse can take this piece with a pawn, it’s a five. If he can do this before Daiki, it’s a ten. They go round and round and round, trading blows. Jesse becomes adept at reading Mr. Shimada, the way his brow twitches when he’s thinking real hard. The way his nose wrinkles when he is going to do something he regrets. The way alcohol brings a flush to his cheeks that burns Jesse up inside, makes him want to kiss and nibble on his full lips.

Daiki is not an idiot. Actually, he’s a brilliant tactician and some of his insights scare Jesse to the bone. He gives the cowboy a once over on their fourth night and rambles off all of Jesse’s fears and hopes, as if he’s looking outside and telling him the weather. For whatever reason, these musings bring no pleasure to Daiki. Instead, he seems sullen and unhappy until Mccree drags him away from their game and to his room. They spend the rest of the evening eating simple snacks and drinking liquor, warmth shared where their hips touch.

Daiki has a million chess strategies, each he gives to Jesse when he’s about five beers or three shots in. They are slurred, but brilliant. The gunslinger isn’t too prideful to admit that some of the winning moves he has done to the Shimada have been straight from his mouth. Jesse was never good at reading or writing, but he’s damn good at remembering directions. Shimada might be three sheets to the wind when he starts doling out the good details, but they are still easy to follow. Daiki is a natural teacher, something Jesse finds himself falling for even more than his bad betting and bizarre fondness for sweets.

It’s a typical night for them, drinking and playing chess. Daiki has placed down a sizeable bet, and is nursing his drinks slow. For the first time, Jesse wonders if he has really been pool-chess sharked. After all, this Daiki is a much more astute player. Someone who is quick to hide his tells and quicker yet to pounce on Jesse’s weakness. It makes his heart flutter, eager to be chased around the board.

He decides on a whim to employ the latest strategy that the man has given him: Ouroboros. You make the enemy take your queen so you can remove theirs, hopefully in a way that will leave the other player surprised and vulnerable. Jesse has the trap set, has the pieces fall into place as Daiki moves towards the final steps. He’s keeping his tells in check, feeling victory lurking around every move.

Daiki triumphantly snaps up the queen, holding it in his fist, “Ha! You’ve lost a valuable token, my friend. I might win this one.”

Shock is feigned on Jesse’s face as he whistles, “Well boil me in oil, Dai. You sure got me.” He snaps the queen up, moving his carefully placed knight to do it. He plucks the piece off the board and waggles it at his friend, “Or maybe I just got you?”

There’s a deadly glint to the smirk that shines off Daiki’s eyes. He takes the bait, grabbing the knight with his rook. He removes the last roadblock to the king. Something hot and heavy curls in Jesse’s stomach as his friend laughs, “Oh, Jesse… Did you think I wouldn’t notice you using my strategies to win?”

Jesse blows out slowly, his grin so broad it was probably blinding, “Shoo-oot. Glad I wasn’t pulling a fast one on ya all ‘long. However, this IS a fast one.” His rook moves into place, falling close to his bishop. All paths of escape for the king are gone, “Checkmate.”

Daiki stills, eyeing the board. Normally as soon as Jesse declares Checkmate, the other man acquiesces and gives him the win. This time, he is actively moving his pieces around, looking for a way out of the trap. Only the rook could have done it, and it’s gone, down there taking care of a pony used as bait. A little bit of strategy, a little bit of ready people, and a little bit of Jesse Mccree originality. Feels good.

From how quiet and serious Daiki has been, he almost expects the man to be angry when he finally nods, “Now, I don’t wanna take your money or nothin’, Dai --”

His words fall flat, caught by the smoldering darkness he sees in Daiki’s eyes. It burns, burns, burns him from the inside out. Lust, barely kept and hidden, surges to the forefront. It’s returned in that gaze, heated and probing Jesse. “The king falls to the eagerness of his own men.” Daiki’s laughter is rich and sweet, wrapping Jesse in velvety caresses, “You have always been a brilliant tactician, Jesse.”

Weird thing to say to someone who he’s met less than a week ago. Jesse is about to bring it up, when the quietness of the room unsettles him. He stiffens, acutely aware that they are alone. Not just alone as in no patrons. No. Alone as in even the bartender is gone.

They’ve been trapped in their game for too long, lulled into security. _The King falls to the eagerness of his own men._ Those words sound like an omen now, the sound of the back doors being kicked in like church bells.

“Geddown!” He leaps across the table, grabs Daiki, and tears him to the ground as the first bullets tear through the pub.

Bullets ricochet around the room, erupting the glass bottles and tumblers and decanters. Chairs explode from impact, the whoops of men following their destructive rain. He keeps Daiki down, using his hat to keep debris from his eyes as he squints through the chaos. Men are coming in now, swaggering all proud like they are the hottest shit that’s ever lived.

Well they never did have to come face to face with Jesse, did they?

When their shots still, Jesse surges to his feet. He draws fast, faster than he should be able to, and hits his targets dead between the eyes. He’s not sure if he’s imagining it or not, but they all seem to crumple in the same instance. No way someone is that fast though.

“Who's got the hot hand?” He grins down triumphantly at Daiki, sweating from the adrenaline. Daiki is staring at him as if he could possibly be the most amazing person to walk this earth and he… He just doesn’t know what to do with that look.

The wail of a siren outside reminds them they are on borrowed time. Even if it was in self defense, there’s still no telling how this will go. Who knows what power these men have. He bundles Daiki in his arms and runs from the bodies, the carnage, and out the backdoor into the night. They run and run, until Jesse starts to slow, so he can think. Then Daiki takes over. Grabs Jesse’s hand in a vicelock and keeps the pace fresh and frantic.

They end up blocks away, and into the foyer of another hotel. This one is proper, an actual establishment and not just a boarding place above a shitty pub. Daiki marches Jesse up to the top floor, the penthouse, and takes him inside. Daiki Shimada was rich enough to have two rooms, one at this place which is infinitely better and then one at the dive. The only thing Jesse couldn’t understand, is why Daiki kept staying at the dive.

 

\---

 

Jesse awakes the next morning feeling refreshed. Refreshed in a way he has not felt since coming to the watch point. It could be Hanzo’s scent, or it could be the bigger bed, but Jesse is more inclined to believe the scent.

He also chocks the scent up to the dream. It was more like watching a movie. Dreams fade with the morning light, but this one stayed as vivid as it had played. Jesse knew some of the details, remembered some of the pieces, but not like this. Not the way Daiki looks at him, nor the strategies, or the odd omen, or the love of chess. It all startles him, makes him uneasy and easy at the same time.

Jesse finds himself relaxing. He takes his meals from the cafeteria and eats outside, mulling over the new information.

His day is spent relaxing as he takes in new information to try and fit with the old. Reincarnation and the study of dreams and memories. He spends a long while with Angela in the med bay, chuckling as she flits about on tall heels.

When he falls asleep in Hanzo’s bed, it’s with hope and expectations of more information.

 

\---

 

The door to Daiki’s room closes behind them, leaving them panting. The suite is nicer than most of the places that Jesse has ever lived, but it’s not ostentatious. It feels good, the right kind of luxury. Something that Jesse can feel comfortable in, even while knowing he’s living a good life.

Daiki is laughing, bright and velvet again. Saying something about luck and surprises and honestly, Jesse doesn’t know what else. While the adrenaline has seemingly left the other man, Jesse is still wound tight.

Without much thought, he grabs onto Daiki and pulls him into a searing kiss. It sparks longing up his spine, electricity dancing at the tip of his tingling tongue. He pulls back, wanting to apologize for his rudeness, but Daiki is there. He steals his breath, pushes all of Jesse’s worries out and leaves space for only his kiss and tongue and touch.

They work their way to the bed, bumping and then tumbling into it. Long limbs and longer kisses. Jesse finds hands all over him, pulling and petting and touching what they can. Daiki pulls back to gasp, his voice a deep purr.

“Gods, how I have missed you.” It stirs something in Jesse, but he chalks the admission and the feeling that it brings to their drinking. He smashes their mouths together, gliding into Daiki’s lap, to smother the odd thoughts. He can’t, won’t, entertain the dreams that come to him at night. Giving into that is giving into madness.

Daiki tips him onto his back, settling between his legs. Jesse laughs, warm and comfortable. Relived. It would be awful to lose Daiki because adrenaline made him want more out of their friendship.

“I was so worried.” He takes Jesse’s hand and places it to his cheek, nuzzling the palm, “You would not remember me.”

… Except maybe he would lose him. First little thing can be chalked up to drunkenness, but the second? This was sounding like Daiki was seeing Jesse as someone else. Another lover, maybe even his wife. Though, that wife has got to have a helluva beard.

He isn’t one to judge.

“Woah, darlin’. Woah.” He stops Daiki from kissing him again by turning his cheek, worried that his will to talk will vanish if they keep going, “Now I, normally I’d say I’d be whoever the hell you’d want me t’ be, but you’re… Well, shit you’re special. I don’t wan’ you to feel like you’re bein’ taken advantage of.”

Daiki sits back, a wounded, scared look in his eyes, “You… do not remember me?”

Scratching at his chin, the gunslinger shrugs, “Hard t’ferget someone y’just met.”

“I… I see. Then I shall leave,” Daiki stands, moving quickly towards the door. Jesse is blessed with a young man’s endurance and agility. He isn’t exhausted even after their mad dash. By the time Daiki is at the door, Jesse’s hand is clamped around his wrist.

“Now hold on, darlin’. Two things. First, this is your room. If anyone should be leavin’, it ought to be me.” Daiki looks back at him, looking him over slowly.

A cruel smile grows on the Shimada’s face, “And what is second? I cannot wait to hear what asinine thing you say.”

It’s mean, stings, but Jesse knows when someone is bluffing with mean to hide the hurt. He sees it in the way Daiki is still subtly trying to pull away from Jesse. He’s afraid of what is coming next.

“I don’t know… Maybe I met you and I forgot? Maybe I just seem like someone y’used to know? Doesn’t change how I feel ‘bout you now.” Daiki stills, eyeing Jesse’s face, “Yer special to me, Dai. Y’think I didn’t notice how you’ve been padding my wallet? How y’slip the bartender money to pay for our drinks? How yer always trying to get me distracted to cover the bill?”

Daiki looks uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot, but he turns from the door to look at Jesse better. Softly, he mutters, “Yes, I had thought I had… been discrete.”

“Mm, I’m sure to a normal ol’ guy it would be, but I ain’t. You saw how I moved in the bar. There’s always been something a little, er, off with me.” Too fast, too quick to heal, too strong to succumb to exhaustion. Many things that didn’t point towards Jesse Mccree being ‘normal’. Jesse shakes his head and sighs, attempting in vain to still his racing heart, “I just met you, but you’re important to me. Important enough for me to risk my cover as just some dumb alcoholic gambler. Important enough for me to not take all this money you’ve thrown my way and just run.”

“You would not.” Daiki eases back into him, into his arms. Fingers tangle in his hair, spreading warmth down his spine, “You are a good man.”

Jesse isn’t sure about that, but he likes the sentiment all the same. Likes it more when they start kissing again. It doesn’t bother him when Daiki calls him different names, all with the letter J - Jacob, Joel, James, Joshua, etc. If Jesse could think, he might find it weird that they all seem perfectly reasonable. As if every name is just ‘Jesse’, but in a different twist.

Daiki cries when they make love, soft sobs that shake Jesse to the core. He’s quick to soothe them, to try and draw whatever poison lingers in Daiki’s soul out, so it can be healed. He has no clue that the poison is the very man against him. So close.

Yet still an ocean of stars away.

 

\---

 

Jesse wakes up, panting and covered in sweat and tears. He feels sticky and gross and broken hearted. Hanzo… Hanzo had remembered, probably still remembers given how his sunshine acted before he left for that mission. Hanzo has been chasing after Jesse for lifetimes, or at least one lifetime. Something says it is more, a lot more.

Has Jesse ever remembered? Weariness clings like a lead cloak to his shoulders, making his movements sluggish and unresponsive. While the first night brings rest, the second makes him more exhausted than he’s ever been. He showers and dresses in a pair of Hanzo’s sweats. They are too small on his long frame, but they will work. For now.

He leaves only to get food, grabbing extra dried and non perishable supplies and bottles of water. Jesse is careful to store them high off the ground. There might not be ants in Gibraltar, but he sure isn’t one to find out. Especially not in another man’s room. In his sunshine’s room. Jesse isn’t sure if all the remembering will ease the hurt that Hanzo has been nursing for years, but he hopes so. Giving him ants sure won’t make that easier.

He eats a little, reads, and meditates. Hours tick by slowly, the minutes veritable paint drying. Nothing sheds time, and still the exhaustion clings to him. He gives in and sinks below the covers, curling up in the scent of Hanzo.

 

\---

 

Dreams come and go, memories flashing fast and then going away. Some of the lives are short and uneventful, never really meeting Hanzo or his family. Some of them are long. The long ones are interesting.

He finds himself in Japan, as a foreign merchant. He is to attend a large social event, something profound that only royalty and nobles are invited to. It’s at this point that Jesse understands two things: 1) Hanzo is or was nobility 2) Jesse was too.

Like most dreams, he finds himself taken with the three siblings right off. Always, it’s her that catches his eye. She draws him in and leads him to the the waiting arms of Hanzo. Always under a different name. This time, his name is Ichirou. Jesse, now James, is taken by him. They spend the night whispering stories of love at first sight. James tells Ichirou of how he has dreamed of him, how it was these prophetic dreams that has lead James to Japan, away from his father’s castle.

Their lives end shortly, from sickness and war, but long for their time period. It is one of the happier version of their story, a version where Jesse remembers bits and pieces. Most of the time, it’s like it is with Daiki - Hanzo remembers, but Jesse forgets.

He watches as each iteration tries and fails to make it work. Tries to get close and succeeds on some level, but fails others. He watches as Hanzo chases, chases, chases, and gives, gives, gives. He gives so much, his sweetheart, his sunshine, his everything. He gives Jesse room to be, to not be tied down by the past. He gives Jesse love and passion. He gives Jesse riches and safety. He chases Jesse, even if Jesse is pulled to him like a magnet. Hanzo is always eager to make their distance disappear.

_Hanzo isn’t afraid. He is’t steeled up either. He is watching and waiting. A hand brushes across Jesse’s muzzle... Hanzo cries. They both do. For what reasons, the bond cannot tell. For stars and legends and missed promises. For the things that a new life will never recall -_

_no matter how deep._

The monk’s words come back, sharp in understanding: His soul calls to you. Hanzo is always drawing in Jesse, but also the one who is chasing. It must be exhausting, just like remembering this has been. Jesse cannot believe that Hanzo is strong enough to live under the weight of these memories.

He dreams of stolen kisses and tender touches. He dreams of letters written and given freely. He dreams of being Hanzo’s manservant, or his friend from another clan. He dreams of Hanzo, burns for Hanzo, aches for Hanzo.

Jesse is burning in more than one way.

 

\---

 

Jesse awakens, but has a hard time opening his eyes. When he finally does, he knows from the light in the room that it is well past two. Groaning, he slowly pulls himself from bed and grabs some of the bottled water and food. He needs a shower, needs to eat. Just eating and drinking takes so much out of him he is eager to fall into bed again, but refrains. Instead he goes and showers.

Waking is hardly different than dreaming. Memories continue to come back, unbidden and sometimes a little jarring. He’s washing his hair and he remembers a time when shampoo wasn’t around. He’s scrubbing down his body and suddenly Hanzo is there, called Nobuyuki now, sucking him off. It is making him shake. Or maybe that’s the sense of cold rolling over him, despite the steamy water pelting his skin.

Climbing out, he dries himself and manages to get the sweatpants on when there’s someone beating at his - no Hanzo’s - door.

“Jesse? Are you in there? Jesse, if you are please answer!” Angela, bless her heart, sounds so worried. Jesse grumbles and opens it.

She hisses sharp like someone who has been burnt by a stove, not looking at a very tired man, “Jesse, by the gods - what is wrong?”

“Whaddya mean?” He’s slurring his words. So many memories are coming back, so quick. Hanzo on his lap. Hanzo in a casket. Hanzo shoving a sword through Jesse. Hanzo over top of him, riding him into bliss. Hanzo. So much of it he can’t seem to stand up straight.

“Jesse, please speak to me.” From her tone of voice, he has a feeling she’s said this more than once.

Sleep is clawing at him, trying to pull him back into its arms, trying to claim him again. He is fighting, help him he is, but it’s a failing battle. It’s only a matter of time before he cannot fight the exhaustion. Something in his brain is screaming for help, screaming this isn’t right.

“Angie. Somethin’... Somethin’ is.”

It happens all at once. A flood of memories, no longer content to trickle in, swamp him. Jesse goes rigid, overloaded with it all. His knees buckle, body hitting the ground hard.

He can’t hear Angela’s distress, or the way she is calling for help to move him. He can’t see the distraught look not just on her, but on those who help her - Reinhardt, 76, Ana, Mei. He can’t see the way a ship is pulling in from a weeklong mission.

Jesse has been asleep three times. The last time, before collapsing just then, had lasted four days.

 

\---

 

Jesse comes to in the dark place. It has been so long since he has been here, but it is not comforting. No. He understands now that as much as it was once a place of reprieve, this is not where he should be. He tries to struggle out of wherever this is, and fails. Left alone to float.

Time is not linear here, it does not move at all. So while it feels like ages, it could have been seconds. Or perhaps it feels like seconds, but it could have been ages.

But suddenly, Jesse is aware he is not alone.

The monk is floating nearby. Swathed in regal reds and oranges, he twists a hand in the air at Jesse, “Greetings.”

“Zen.” He’s glad someone is here, glad someone might be able to get a message out to the outside world. They float together, and as soon as they are close, Zenyatta is hugging him. It’s odd, considering this is the second most physical contact they have ever had. It feels right, comforting. Tears choke his voice, “Zen, somethin’ is wrong. Somethin’ is wrong and I’m scared.”

Zenyatta hums and lets Jesse cry, soothing him with small noises, “Yes. It appears you have remembered too much too fast. No one expected you had already started, or Genji and I would not have pushed you to this extreme.”

“Whaddya mean?” He pulls back to look at the man better. Seems odd to call sleeping in someone’s bed an extreme, even if it was a little stalkerish to be doing so when the other was far away. Without permission. All right, not little. It was full stalker.

The omnic tilts his head down, a look Jesse feels, _knows_ , shows his embarrassment, “We worked together to change the mission logs. We took away your support as well as Hanzo to give you the space needed to remember. Your soul bond would call for each other, and the distance and closeness would jumpstart memories.”

Jesse is frowning, trying to piece together the puzzle laid before him. So, it was deliberate? Taking Hanzo and them all, out of the picture for a week? Just so Jesse would sleep in Hanzo’s bed undisturbed and be allowed to think for himself? Why did he react like this, though?

“Hanzo is not wrong: we do meddle. We have always meddled, but with good intentions. Normally, it works fine and it helps push you two together. On rare occasions… It backfires,” Like now, Jesse supplies with silence and drooping shoulders.

“Guess I shoulda… I shoulda told him sooner I was remembering, but I thought at the time that was a given. Thought I always remembered. Now I know different.”

“Not remembering is not your fault, Jesse.” Zenyatta’s voice is clear and soothing, giving him something in which to ground his thoughts, “Do you recall what I told you? His soul calls to you. This last time, your soul called to him.”

Jesse remembers the bullet. Remembers how it burns in his lungs and chest and makes him weak. Remembers his last thoughts are about Daiki Shimada, the beautiful man from Boston who changed his life for the better.

“So, does that mean Hanzo don’t remember?” It made sense, in a way. Hanzo was the one calling, so Jesse would forget. Jesse is the caller, so Hanzo would forget.

“No, Hanzo has and likely always will remember. He is stubborn, even in death and rebirth. There are things that a new body and time cannot change.” That leaves Jesse dizzy, reeling from the shocking news.

Taking a few steadying breaths, he gives the omnic a withering glare, “Now hold on just a gol’ darn second. Yer tellin’ me that you were lyin’ when ya told me that Hanzo couldn’t recall what I do?”

Zenyatta chuckles, the sound irritating Jesse to the core, “No, I meant that. How could Hanzo know the things only you can? Your feelings, your thoughts during the time. Those are yours, all alone.”

“Christ on a goddamn cracker, Zenyatta!”

“He comes on that? Amazing.” There is no smarm there, just an omnic not getting a stupid southern idiom. Jesse grumbles, rubbing his fists into his eyes.

“Great. Great. Now I’m stuck here.” As much as the monk has irritated him, Jesse is appreciative of the gentle touches and soft sounds.

“Tell me, what do you wish to do? When I asked you before, you said you wanted him to be happy. What now, Jesse?”

His first, knee-jerk reaction is that it is the same. He wants Hanzo to be happy. Wants to see Hanzo smile like sunshine. Wants Hanzo to feel loved and desired.

But it is a cover for another feeling, one Jesse is afraid to explore. Zenyatta does not press, allows for Jesse to think and hum.

Eventually, it comes to him, a swift kick of understanding that takes his breath away.

Every damn time they come around, he wants so much for Hanzo. Wants this and that for Hanzo. Sacrifices for Hanzo, so Hanzo can be happy.

But this time something else burns in him, from the inside out, so fierce and powerful he trembles from the power, “I want to be happy.”

Brilliant laughter peels from Zenyatta, not at all mechanical sounding. His voice is more lively, losing the omnic quality as it cheers in his mind, “Finally! I have waited so long to hear you come alive, Jesse James Joel Jacob Joshua Jared - Oh so many names. Finally, you are awake.”

He settles down, suddenly not an omnic, but not a human, and not alive, but not dead. A million things, but still Zenyatta. Much like the time at the temple, Jesse is unnerved.

“What are ya, Zen?”

“Mmm, I wonder? Perhaps in time, we can compare what we are together. You are not all you seem either.”

Fastest draw in the west. Strongest man around. Heals faster than normal. Easy in nature and a city. Young and old and always moving. Always a cowboy, without horse or cow insight. Even when he’s a prince or a king, he’s still somehow a cowboy.

“What the hell am I?” This question makes Zenyatta grin. His eyes are molten brown, his teeth pearly white. Fleshy hands squeeze his shoulders.

“It does not matter. Jesse, tell me now. What will make you happy?”

Does he have to say it? It erupts around them, leaves no room for question. It’s in smiles and touches and kisses and sobs of pleasure. It’s in playing chess and drinking and watching original plays by Shakespeare, presented for the first time at The Globe. It’s in the understanding that it wasn’t just Hanzo that has always called for Jesse, but Jesse has called for him. Just wasn’t aware of it. He wasn’t awake.

But he is now.

_“Hanzo.”_

His shoulder is shoved and Jesse is falling through the dark place. Zenyatta stands high above, growing distant. Still, his smile seems to paradoxically be the last thing to disappear from view. His voice still as loud as if the monk was right beside him.

“I am so glad you have awoken, Jesse.”

 

\---

 

He’s a little surprised to find himself not in the med bay, but in Hanzo’s room. He’s lying below the covers, relaxed into the mattress. It is cleaner in here and something is laid across his chest. Jesse realizes what in a rush of fondness what it is - Hanzo’s jacket.

How sad is it that Jesse couldn’t see that cruel smile for what it was? A bluff. A way to hide the pain and fear behind it. He only has a few seconds to admonish himself when he recognizes that he isn’t alone in the room.

Standing beside his bed is the brilliant lime green spirit guardian - Genji’s wolf.

No. Not just _Genji’s_ wolf. Not even a _wolf_.

A body made of stars, twinkling in the dark.

“Hoshi.” Jesse breathes the name, memories coming in. Three siblings. Two brothers. One sister.

Hoshi, the star. Brilliant and shining like a gem in the crown of wherever she is placed. She sparkles without effort. She was always the one who would capture Jesse and drag him into Hanzo’s arms. A guiding light in the dark. It isn’t just Genji and Zenyatta who are meddlers. Hoshi has been there from the get go, maybe even before Genji got in on the game.

Hoshi, who shakes off sparkles now, a being made from the milky way. No wonder they didn’t introduce the two spirit guardians. Never told Jesse her name. It was likely to cause this sort of reaction, a complete meltdown as Jesse’s mind tried to sequence it all together.

But it’s okay now. He has come out the other side of the worst possible scenario stronger, more awake and happy than he has been… Ever.

Hoshi sits down now, her tail wagging happily, _“You’re finally awake, sleepyhead. You’ve caused them both a lot of pain. All of them, really.”_

“Not my fault,” He points out, but sighs regardless, guilt prickling his skin.

_“You are right. It is not your fault. It does not stop the damage done. It can mean the difference between a lasting scar and a fond memory.”_ Why is it that both brothers are back, but their sister is a guardian? He wants to ask now, curious about Hoshi. She has always been a good friend to him.

As has Genji and Zenyatta. He’d been so focused on Hanzo, the other memories he’s been reclaiming hadn’t really sunk in. Genji has always been his best friend, Hoshi close as well. Zenyatta… They have not always seen eye to eye, but he trusts the other with his life, his very being. That was why, even when he could not remember, Zenyatta was there to guide him in the right direction.

Meddlers, the whole lot.

_“Joel. No, Jesse. Jesse, you need to get up.”_ Hoshi’s voice drags him from his thoughts. She is standing again, hackles rising, _“We don’t have much time. Genji and Hanzo are-”_

“Fighting.”

She only nods and gives him a few seconds to put shoes on his feet before they leave the room. They head for the stairs to the roof, all too aware of where the brothers would be.

Where they have always gone when a war is brewing between them.

 

\---

 

It’s always been this way. Brothers fight. Their first fight, as dragons, ended in destruction and agony, but also the first cycle. Their first loop.

They never stop being dragons, even after the period that the clan forgets about it. Forgets what Genji and Hanzo and the Shimada’s are, because Hanzo sets fire to their home. Burns down the castle, with everyone inside. Including Jesse. They hold one another, promise to find each other again. Hanzo remembers, Jesse forgets. Still, they fall together, guided by Hoshi.

When the clan reforms, they become summoners of spirit guardians, the motif of wolves overtaking dragons. The brothers stay on top of it for a while, and then succumb to politics and elders. Honor and ritual. It holds them down, forces them into another pained loop of being caught in the clan. Jesse, having been freed once, remains free. Forever guided back home by Hoshi.

But the new clan, the last clan, has forgotten something they should not. For while wolves are powerful.

They are nothing compared to the dragons on the rooftop of Gibraltar.

 

Energy snaps the air, and Jesse is unsure if it’s their anger that has brought on the storm, or the storm that has unrolled their anger. They stalk around, exchanging angry yells of Japanese back and forth.

_“Meddler! You have ruined everything, again! How could I have been so foolish to let you see him alone? You always do this!”_

_“Do not lay this on me, brother. You know what you have done too! You pushed too hard, tried to make him chase you. Could you not see how he hurt?”_

Hoshi looks wholly unimpressed, giving their bickering an unsatisfied sneeze, _“Dumb brothers. Dumb boys. Why must they always do this when you get hurt? You’re not some glass creature that’ll break at the first problem.”_

Energy crackles between them. Blue. Green. It charges the air, makes Jesse feel alive. He remembers it on his fur, as he surges around to consume their enemies. A gift from his dragon, from the man who stands before him, prepared to strike at his brother.

Jesse takes a step forward, heart beating wildly in his chest. There’s no telling the damage their anger and sorrow would wrought. This isn’t a barren land, but a base that held their friends and comrades.

“Hanz.”

They turn on him, Genji still furious at something, but Hanzo looking so relieved. That same open look he had after Jesse said he would not leave, burns at his soul. It ignites him, kindles a fire in him that has been growing stronger since the first night alone.

“You’re awake.” Genji moves first, comes to him to give him a hug. There’s a buzz on Jesse’s skin when they touch, something a little uncomfortable. It’s not the Shimada he wants, but it is still his dearest friend.

“This does not excuse what you have done. He is awake, but you could have killed him.”

Hanzo. Always trying to protect him. Of seeing the world half empty, scorned too many times to be optimistic. There’s a look of fragility that passes from Hanzo to Jesse, worry and words unspoken. A kind man, forced to be cautious and angry after he has been hurt. It makes Jesse ache.

“And why are you still mad? It is fine, brother!” Genji turns to Hanzo, arms spread out. Jesse doesn’t need to see his face to know a grin is there. Hanzo only scowls.

“Does that matter? Jesse could have died! It could have been over and without even getting to hold him. When will you learn to leave my affairs alone?”

Genji’s fear is palpable, from the shake in his shoulder to the step back. Not surprising, considering the building tension in the air, the thick feeling of ozone gathering around them. But Jesse knows better, knows this intimately.

He walks forward, unafraid despite the yell from Genji to stop. He stands before Hanzo and reaches out towards his face. Of course, the other man flinches back, a crack of thunder overhead heralding a hardly held fury.

“Hanzo,” Those memories rise to the surface, brushing along the edges of his mind. He searches for names and affectionate terms of endearment, “My storm, my thunder, my sweetheart, my light, my sunshine. I’m here.”

A shudder rolls through Hanzo, a warning of what will come. Jesse wonders if he will be hit, smacked for making Hanzo wait for so long. But instead, his anger cools as he steps toward Jesse.

“You remember, you said. What do you remember? Tell me.”

Everything is a cop out answer, because it gives nothing to Hanzo. Nothing to fill the searching, pained void in his love’s eyes. Nothing to sooth a million lifetimes of hoping and waiting.

“No matter what I tell you, it won’t be enough, Hanzo,” He sounds as mournful as Hanzo looks. Still, he reaches out once more. This time, there is no anger or recoil. Hanzo let’s himself be touched. His finger skates the high planes of sharp cheekbones, marveling at the softness of skin he has ached to caress for so long, “But lemme try.”

Jesse takes a breath, tastes the ozone on his tongue. It fills his lungs with static, the storm cupped in the palm of his hand. The storm, watching him closely, waiting.

Always waiting.

“I love you. I have always loved you. I _will_ always love you. No matter what. I have promised to protect you, and I keep my word,” He swallows and brings forward his other hand to hold Hanzo’s face, “Even if I ain’t so special to you now. Even if you… If ya decide it just isn’t worth the hassle chasin’ me time and time again - I’ll protect you. I’ll give everything I got t’make sure you are happy and loved.

“The thing I remember the most is jus’ how much pain you’ve been in, how much you’ve endured. And I,” His voice breaks, emotion a tight knot in his throat. Jesse swallows hard, blinking back the stinging tears that threaten to spill, “I am so sorry for not bein’ able t’say this sooner. T’be here before now. Hanzo, I’m ---”

He tastes like rain. Fresh rain after a hot summer's day, splashing against the dusty earth. Like the sound of thunder rumbled far away, a promise of something daring on the horizon. He tastes like cold water after being parched, soothing and stinging. Like vapor in the air from early morning fog.

He tastes like a sea of stars.

Jesse whimpers and folds into Hanzo’s arms. He lets himself be swept into the storm of lips and desperate hands. Whatever knot has formed in his chest loosens after each passing second.

Until, embraced in his soulmate’s arms, Jesse chokes out a sob of relief. He buries his face into the other man’s neck, shaking. From relief.

From anticipation.

“I would endure it again if it brought you to me once more. Do not be sorry.” Hanzo leans back and rests their foreheads together. He smiles, looking Jesse in the eyes.

“My cactus rose.” A kiss on his forehead.

_They sit together in the hotel room, Daiki’s fingers laced with his. “My cactus rose.”_

“My sun dappled prince. My knight.” Two kisses, on each eyelid.

_Their first kiss is snuck in after they dance, Hideki’s voice syrupy sweet, “You are a beautiful, sun dappled prince.”_

_Their first kiss is given as Jesse dies from a sword wound, taken to protect him. Nobuyuki chokes out, “My Knight…”_

“My most precious.” The tip of his nose is kissed, making it itch.

_“Precious, did you dream again?” Ichirou’s fingers pet at his hair, “I want to hear about them all. Tell me, please?”_

_“_ My everything.” He kisses Jesse on the lips. It’s not nearly as deep as the one that caught him, but even more sweet.

_“My everything.” They call him Ryuu. His scales shimmer like a starlit sky, his eyes a molten gold. Dragon._

_He’s old now, frail and failing. Dying. He has to leave the immortal, and it hurts. Ryuu murmurs softly as his eyes struggle to remain open, “Close your eyes. I will find you again,”_

“I will always find you.” Hanzo finishes his promise, one Jesse has heard before, but simply forgot.

“Thank god for that. Be lost without ya, Hanz.” They laugh, a light hearted sound clogged with tears of joy and relief.

“Get a room!” Hana’s shout jars them from their moment. She is grinning wildly from the ground level, their little group of friends gathered to watch the moment. Jesse flushes, wondering just how long they’ve been there.

“I believe,” Hanzo’s voice is low, a rumble that kindles fire in his gut, “We should follow that advice.”

“Later brother. Let us celebrate.” Ah, right. Genji was also right there. Jesse feels like he might combust, although Hanzo seems unflustered despite his brother hearing.

Hand in hand, they leave the roof behind, the storm breaking apart. The threat gone, quelled for once before anyone could be hurt.

Jesse knows, the next time he falls asleep, he will awaken in the arms of the one he has always loved.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more in the series. Hanzo and Jesse will need to talk about Hanzo's behavior, something that isn't properly admonished in this fic.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Comments and Criticisms are welcome. If you enjoyed, please leave a kudos and/or a comment below. I'm bad at responding to comments, but I read them and love them dearly.


End file.
